The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-23 08:49:21 -

The black veins on Silas Vane’s left hand had reached the elbow by the time the council arrived to dismiss him. It was the high-sun year 1240, and the heat in the archive smelled of dry rot and old ink, a scent that had settled into Silas’s pores over twenty years of service. He sat at his desk, the parchment of the town charter spread before him, his fingers trembling as he tried to press the...

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